Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
His hair was gray, a distinguished iron gray that he had always been rather proud of. His face was wrinkled and worn by a lifetime of smiling and frowning and going outside in the harsh Las Vegas sunshine. He could have moved out of Nevada, he knew that. But the idea of leaving so many memories behind was unbearable. The cane in his hand aided his faltering steps as he moved away from the small car he'd driven here. He hadn't driven himself anywhere in a very long time, his eyes not being what they used to, but today was special; not a day to shared with anyone else.
The grass was lush underneath his soft-soled shoes, and the terrain was mercifully flat, allowing him to walk slowly without fear of tripping or stumbling. There were a few trees along the edge of the grounds, but he was not walking near them. Their shade stretched out towards him as if trying to offer him respite from the sun, but he ignored them. He carried on doggedly, knowing that soon someone would notice that he had left his home and they would begin to wonder where he was. He only had so much time, and this was important. It was very important to him that he do this on his own.
When finally he reached his destination he took a deep breath, winded from more exercise than he was used to. His aching knees creaked and protested when he ever so slowly lowered himself in to a crouch. His drooping back screamed, but he did not listen. One trembling hand used the grass at his feet to support him as he reached out with the other to trace the smooth stone in front of him, his withered fingers tracing the curves of the name engraved upon it with love. Then he smiled, taking one last long look at the dates just below the name, and laboriously turned his body until he sat on the ground, his back to the gravestone. He set the cane down beside himself on the ground and folded his hands in his lap.
"It's been a long three years without you Greg," he spoke aloud as he closed his clouded eyes. "But not to worry, I'm coming to you now." As a wind picked up, seeming to kiss his wrinkled cheek and ruffle his faded hair, Nick Stokes sighed for the very last time, his breath coming out slowly with a great deal of relief. And then he died, a smile gracing his features as he went to rejoin the husband he had outlived by three very long and lonely years.
He was buried in the same grave, and his name was added to that smooth tombstone, and their love was kept alive on earth as they lay next to each other for the rest of forever.